


Apart but A Part

by AzuraDameron



Category: Persona 5
Genre: AU - New Metaverse, Akira has a Palace AU, F/F, F/M, I'm doing too many goddamn things in one fic, M/M, Post-Ending, Slow Burn, The slowest, listen this is gonna be a wild ride so bear with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzuraDameron/pseuds/AzuraDameron
Summary: Akira is barely home a week before everything goes back to hell in a handbasket. Mishima and Sae discover a new Metaverse on two separate occasions, the revived Phantom Thieves are tasked with a Palace of exceptional difficulty, and Akira tries not crumble under the control of his new stepdad and his own deteriorating mental health (obviously he doesn't do too well).





	1. i don't wanna seem clingy so i'm gonna visit your dad's cafe

**Author's Note:**

> I have a million and one p5 fics in my head and I made the mistake of combining some of them so here's this monster of a fic. It's equal parts me worldbuilding a new metaverse i'm really excited about and also this batshit insane Akira has a Palace AU i have. Of course I start a really ambitious fic the month before I go back to school but who cares here we gooooooooo

It hadn’t even been a day since Akira left and Yuuki already missed him. He found himself wandering Akihabara, hand fumbling at the phone in his pocket, unable to take his hand off it but resisting the temptation to bug Akira. He busied himself with staring at the new giant 4K TVs he had no interest in buying and could never afford anyway. A salesman nearby was loudly proclaiming they were so high definition, it was like you were getting sucked into the action. Yuuki rolled his eyes and wandered into an aisle of older TVs, barely looking at any of them. Finally, he caved, and pulled up the chat app.

 **Yuuki:** How goes it up there?

He waited a few seconds, but no dots popped up on his screen. Restlessness stirred in his gut, and he picked up his pace. He suddenly didn’t feel like staying in Akihabara. He spent his nervous energy making his way back to the station and riding to Shibuya. Akira still hadn’t answered. Which was totally fine. Tooootally fine. He was probably unpacking. Probably making up lost time with his parents. Or getting stuff straightened out for his transfer back. Maybe he was talking with his other friends. They always took precedent. Rightly so, they all hung out with Akira way more than Yuuki did. They were the ones that drove him home and everything. Yuuki didn’t feel bad if Akira was prioritizing answering their texts over his. It was natural. It was normal. 

Yuuki tried to work off his anxiety by perusing the underground mall, but he wasn’t really looking at anything, neither processing what he was seeing nor where he was going. On a whim he decided to hop on the line that would take him to Yongen-Jaya. Despite the fact that Akira lived there, not once during the whole last year did Yuuki drop by the neighborhood. There wasn’t much point now, but eh. Better late than never, he supposed. 

There was something charming about Yongen, it wasn’t a rustic Japanese village but in the comparative high tech bustle of Shibuya, it _felt_ like a old village. It had its share of people, but moved with the steady rhythm of life rather than the chaos of the larger city. Its narrow alleys felt more quaint and quirky than crowded. Yuuki decided he liked Yongen. He got the overwhelming feeling that taking a walk through its streets during a light drizzle, carelessly twirling his umbrella, some chillstep playlist in his ears, was definitely something he wanted to do one day. 

The buzzing of his phone startled him out of his musing.

 **Akira:** Sorry, stepdad is very particular about where I unpack my stuff  
**Akira:** How are you?  
**Yuuki:** I’m fine!  
**Yuuki:** Bored mostly. Not much to do without the Phansite.  
**Akira:** Yeah. I know what you mean.  
**Yuuki:** I’m in Yongen! It’s a really nice place.  
**Akira:** Really? How is it? Still peaceful?  
**Yuuki:** I mean this is my first time here, so I can’t really tell if it’s changed if that’s what you’re asking.  
**Akira:** First time in Yongen? You should go to Leblanc.  
**Yuuki:** The cafe where you lived?  
**Akira:** Ye  
**Yuuki:** Alright, I’ll mosey on over there now.  
**Akira:** Mosey?  
**Akira:** Ok Cloud  
**Yuuki:** Oh lay off  
**Akira:** Ow  
**Akira:** you wound me  
**Akira:** you and Ryuji cut deep, refusing to use the word fuck  
**Yuuki:** So sue me, I like my precision f bombs. 

After several twists and turns, Yuuki wandered by a storefront he nearly missed. Coffee & Curry, Leblanc. Yuuki still thought that was a weird gimmick. He wasn’t really in the mood for either, but he figured he might as well try a cup of coffee while he was here. The bell jingled as he entered, catching the attention of the middle-aged manager behind the counter.

“Welcome,” he greeted gruffly. He glanced down at Yuuki’s plaid pants and smiled wryly. “Shujin kid, huh? What can I get ya?”

“Uh, hi, um,” Yuuki did a very slight bow, which was stupid now that he thought about it, “You’re Sakura-san, right? I’m a friend of Akira’s, I was in the neighborhood and I figured I’d drop by.”

Sojiro cocked an eyebrow. “You just happened to be in Yongen? Seems pretty out of the way to just be passing through.”

Yuuki fumbled with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, well, I was bored. Been wandering around for awhile, figured I’d come here, see where Akira lived…”

“Well, are you gonna take a seat or not?”

“O-Oh, right!” Yuuki hurried to a seat at the bar, “Um… I’m not much of a coffee drinker, what do you recommend?”

“Well I can’t start from nothing. Can you take your coffee black, or no?”

Yuuki shook his head. “No, too bitter. I like the sweet stuff with espresso shots okay, but I’m not usually drinking them for the taste. I don’t really wanna start my day with an energy drink.”

Sojiro nodded. “Ah, drinking it for the morning caffeine, huh? I get it. Let’s give you something that’ll make you savor the flavor.” He got to work.

Yuuki checked his phone to see he’d left his chat app open and missed texts from Akira.

 **Akira:** You ever considered making actual websites for people?  
**Akira:** Futaba could help out. You two would make a killer team.  
**Akira:** Did you get lost looking for Leblanc  
**Yuuki:** Sorry! Sakura-san’s making coffee for me now.  
**Akira:** Tell the old curmudgeon I said hi.

“Akira says hello,” Yuuki said, “And also called you an old curmudgeon.”

Sojiro scoffed, “Yeah, yeah, of course he did.” Yuuki didn’t miss the fondness Sojiro was trying to bury in his voice.

 **Yuuki:** He didn’t appreciate being called a curmudgeon.  
**Akira:** Mishi you backstabber  
**Akira:** You weren’t supposed to tell him I said that  
**Akira:** I feel betrayed  
**Yuuki:** But I told you I said it to him! I didn’t hide my betrayal!  
**Yuuki:** Real friends stab you from the front. : >  
**Akira:** Jesus Mishi where did your chill go  
**Yuuki:** I never had any. You have all the chill. You’re a chill sink. A chill parasite. You steal it all for yourself and leave none for us. You greedy chill bastard.  
**Akira:** I’m a bad man  
**Yuuki:** The worst.  
**Akira:** The nastiest  
**Akira:** you could even say I’m  
**Yuuki:** I know where this is going  
**Akira:** a nasty crimeboy.

Yuuki groaned. 

“That’s a very specific groan. Is Akira being difficult?” Sojiro asked, wry smile back in place. 

“He’s usually better with his jokes,” Yuuki said. 

“He said anything about his parents?” Sojiro asked, a subtle shift in his demeanor. Yuuki couldn’t quite peg it.

“Uh, not much. Just mentioned that his stepdad is particular about where he unpacks his stuff.”

Sojiro’s brow furrowed. “What does _that_ mean?”

“Uh, I dunno… you want me to ask him?”

Sojiro shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine, it’s just…” He trailed off, concentrating on making Yuuki’s coffee. Yuuki peeked back at his phone, but Akira had gone silent. He contemplated asking a question about his parents, but that seemed a bit nosy and suspicious, so he decided against it. He would ask Sojiro though.

“...Does Akira have trouble with his parents? He’s never once mentioned them or anything from his hometown when he was here.”

Sojiro sighed heavily and slung a hand behind his head, scratching at his neck in discomfort. “I probably shouldn’t be the one airing Akira’s dirty laundry to you, especially since he’s never mentioned to anyone, unless one of his friends isn’t telling me about a heart-to-heart they’ve had. Considering how many people he’s dating, I’m sure one of them knows _something_ about his homelife, but I haven’t gotten that impression. Maybe I should just ask.”

Yuuki shifted, uncomfortable in his seat. “Well… I don’t spend time with his whole group very much, sometimes I’d hang out with him and Ryuji. I think… I think Ryuji said something a long time ago about Akira being really private. He seemed kind of annoyed. I don’t think that ever got resolved but I don’t really know.”

Sojiro heaved another sigh. “It just seemed suspicious that Akira wouldn’t say a word about them until he arranged to go home, and they didn’t say a word to Akira until January! They didn’t even call me til the night before Akira left! They probably got all their reports through the probation officer.”

“Wait… they didn’t talk to him the whole time he was here?!” Yuuki’s mouth went agape. He had his own share of shitty parent experiences, but cutting all contact? As much as Yuuki wanted his parents to shut up forever and leave him alone, he couldn’t imagine his parents never speaking a word to him for _a whole year_ in a new city with criminal record. That would sting something awful. 

“Well, the disconnect seemed to be mutual, but Akira’s mother didn’t start texting him until she divorced his father around December. I don’t really know why. Then quick as you like, she turned around and married another guy a few weeks before Akira left.”

“That’s… too fast. Waaay too fast.”

“Yeah. Akira seems hopeful, but I don’t know. I had one call with his new stepdad and he rubbed me the wrong way,” Sojiro huffed. 

Well now Yuuki had to at least ask if Akira was okay.

 **Yuuki:** How’s the new stepdad?

Sojiro served Yuuki’s coffee while he waited for Akira to respond. Yuuki took a sip without really looking at it and nearly scalded his tongue.

 **Akira:** Kinda uptight. Definitely more involved in my life than my actual dad. We’ll see if that’s from a place of caring or not.  
**Yuuki:** That doesn’t sound good.  
**Akira:** Trust me, I’ve faced worse. I’ll be fine  
**Akira:** I’m way better at handling people now, I’m sure we can work something out

“I think you may be right, I’m getting a bad feeling about his stepdad too,” Yuuki said between blowing on his coffee. 

“Hm? He say something about it?” 

“Yeah, Akira says he’s uptight and more involved in his life, but he’s not sure if it’s because his new dad really cares about him or not.”

“So he might be the controlling type, eh? I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sojiro muttered. 

“He promises me he can handle it, but the fact that there’s something to handle is concerning.”

“Yeah, well…” Sojiro said, “He’s a capable kid. I’m probably overthinking this. Just because his stepdad doesn’t seem like the best of people doesn’t mean he’s abusive. I’m probably just jumping to conclusions.”

Yuuki went silent as he sipped at his coffee. Well, at least that was good. He’d have to come to Leblanc more often.


	2. that feeling when hallucinogens would actually be preferable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting Mishima's prologue to span THREE GODDAMN CHAPTERS BUT HERE WE ARE

The sun was almost down by the time Yuuki left Leblanc. He paid for his drink (man today was proving to be more expensive than he liked) and bid Sojiro goodbye before heading out the door. 

As soon as he closed the door behind him, a headache ripped through his brain, striking like lightning on a clear day. Quickly as it came, it went, leaving Yuuki with his head in his hands and very dizzy. Through his hands he could see the world warp for a second, like a mirage during a heat wave, and his vision blacked out as if he stood too fast. When it returned, everything looked normal.

“That was weird… did I have bad coffee?” Yuuki wondered aloud. 

He started walking back to the station, eyes on the ground in contemplation. Worries about his parents, Akira’s parents, and how tight his budget would be for the rest of the week, swirled in his mind. He was nearly to the station when he sighed and looked up to the sky. Something seemed off. It was still dark, but… was the sun on the opposite side of the sky?  


Yuuki pulled out his phone and brought up the compass app he downloaded in a fit of paranoia brought on by watching too many “true story” videos about crazy kidnappings after a night of Phansite managing. Thinking back, he wasn’t entirely sure how a compass app would help, but it made sense to his addled brain at the time, and, well, it was free. And it had its one moment of usefulness in determining that yes, indeed, the sun was suddenly setting in the east. What the hell did Sojiro put in that coffee?

Yuuki looked up again, convinced he was going completely nuts, when he noticed the lighting was different. It wasn’t the orangey darkness of sunset, it was the blue darkness of sunrise. Which made more sense, the sun did rise in the east, but Yuuki could swear on his mother’s life that it was 7:30 in the evening when he left Leblanc, not 7:30 in the morning. Did Sojiro drug him and knock him out for the night? And then… not move him? And pretend they were having the same conversation when he woke up so he wouldn’t know he just passed out? And also not steal his money or do anything to Yuuki? 

“What the hell…” Yuuki muttered, staring dumbfounded at the sky. “Maybe that headache is messing me up? There had to be drugs in that coffee… I must be hallucinating…”

Being high off his ass seemed more and more plausible the more he stared up. The clouds were in formations he’d never seen before. They stretched across the sky in great arches, looping around each other in intertwining angles. If Yuuki didn’t know any better, he’d say they were like great rings floating in the sky, like the pieces of some advanced alien spaceship hovering over the city. 

“I’m definitely high,” Yuuki declared. What was he gonna do now? He couldn’t go home with his eyes red or his pupils blown out or whatever this drug did to his eyes. His parents would throw him out on the street! He also reeeaally didn’t want to ride the train and make his way home in this state. Maybe he’d go back to Leblanc and give Sojiro a piece of his mind. And also sleep in one of the booths until this passed over. Or maybe the attic? Akira did live in the attic, maybe the bed was still there. 

Yuuki went back to the same storefront he had just come from, but when he entered, it was decidedly _not_ the cafe it had been. Instead of the cozy capsule of bar and booths, Yuuki was greeted by stairs that descended from the door and bloomed into a grand staircase. The roof sloped down with the stairs, so Yuuki couldn’t see anything else. Dear god, Yuuki couldn’t imagine what he looked like, bursting back into Sojiro’s cafe in the real world and just staring down at the floor. But, he had to navigate his drugged out fantasy, try to be as clear as possible, and hope for the best. Yuuki descended the stairs.

He honestly wasn’t expecting what he saw when he hit the bottom. 

Leblanc was no longer a tiny hole in the wall. It looked like a sprawling five-star restaurant, grand stairs on either side of Yuuki leading to the expansive second level. The whole place was almost labyrinthian, with partitions sectioning off the tables and booths and even sitting areas with comfy couches, so everything was still private even in this massive restaurant. It was… actually really cool? It wasn’t any noisier than most cafes, all the patrons speaking in low hums, and something like smooth jazz was floating in the background. But what Yuuki couldn’t stop staring at was the centerpiece of it all: at the heart of the first floor was a circular bar with a gargantuan column above it. The column was made up of rings of compartments for drinks and spice jars, backlit for display, each ring spinning the opposite direction very slowly. 

“Hello sir, how are you today?”

A voice startled the skin off Yuuki’s bones. Er… maybe Yuuki shouldn’t think that, otherwise he’ll hallucinate his flesh actually jumping off his bones… that sounded bad. He turned to the voice and found a… person? A humanoid figure who seemed to be made of light, yet the light wasn’t bright enough or colorful enough to dull the clothes they were wearing. They wore a tan shirt under a very dark brown apron with a creamy white color swirling through it like marble. It looked like cream being poured into a dark cup of coffee, actually. The person didn’t have a face; instead, a plain mask with a similarly colored dark brown and creamy tan checkered pattern seemed to look at Yuuki. 

“Uuuhhhh,” Yuuki said dumbly. 

“Oh my, you look confused,” the… host? said. “Would you prefer first floor seating or second floor?”

“Ummm, can I um, can I… speak the manager?” Yuuki stammered.

“Certainly!” the host thing replied, and pointed towards the hub where the bar was. “You can find Sakura-san right down there.”

Yuuki murmured thanks and hurried down another flight of stairs, trying not to look anywhere but where he needed to. Sojiro stood behind the bar, handing another patron a tall cup of coffee, looking completely normal aside from his dark purply-red eyes. What color was that specifically? Maroon? Yuuki could guess the hex if he were close enough, considering he made his eyes bleed every few weeks when the ‘should I change the Phansite’s scheme to a less garish red?’ question nagged at him, and now because of that he had almost every red-related hex number memorized.

Said maroon eyes were now wide and staring at Yuuki in disbelief as he approached the bar. 

“Wh-what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here!” Sojiro(?) said in shock. 

“Y-you… did you drug my coffee?! I’m tripping balls right now and it happened right after I finished that coffee you made!” Yuuki exclaimed. Tripping balls was perhaps not the most serious or appropriate thing to say, but eh. 

“What reason would I have to drug you?” Sojiro(?) shot back, “Besides, drugging you would be much easier to explain than how the hell you ended up in here!” 

“If I’m not drugged, then how do you explain it suddenly being morning when it was clearly evening when I left your cafe? And your cafe suddenly turning into a huge restaurant?!” 

“It always morning here,” Sojiro(?) said in lieu of a clear explanation. He sighed, “Jeez, well, no point in keeping you in the dark. Welcome to the new and improved Metaverse, I guess.” 

“M… Metaverse? I… I don’t believe anything you’re saying… This is all just a weird hallucination. The real Sojiro’s probably listening to me talk like an insane person!”

“Well, believe what you want, but… say, is this really so hard to believe?” Sojiro smiled his trademark lopsided smile. “I mean, you are Yuuki Mishima right? The Moon Confidant?”  


Yuuki’s brows creased together. “The… Moon Confidant…? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Y’know, the uh… The Messenger of the Phantom Thieves? Oh, what were you in the real world…” Sojiro clasped his jaw to think.

“...I was the admin of the Phansite, I don’t really think that makes me the Messenger…”  


Sojiro snapped his fingers, “Ah, yes! You ran that site. I don’t really understand it myself, but I’ve seen your Paragon in here several times. We Confidants have a way of finding each other in this place, y’see.”

“Alright alright alright, back up,” Yuuki said as he sat down at the bar, “I’m completely lost. Metaverse? Paragon? Confidants? What is this place?!”

Sojiro chuckled, crows feet growing pronounced around his disconcerting maroon eyes. 

“Alright, let’s start from the top, eh?” He pulled up a stool from his side of the bar and sat down across from Yuuki. He cleared his throat and begun the explanation: “The Metaverse is one of the many terms for the realm borne of the human mind. It’s where concentrated manifestations of humanity’s highest hopes and darkest desires live, apart but a part of their real selves. Their cognition of themselves and others around them.”

Yuuki just stared, uncomprehending.

“Too much? Well, you’ll catch on eventually. Not sure how else to put it. It’s a another world based on your psyche. Right now you’re in the ‘collective subconscious’ of everyone, instead of your own little pocket that reflects your psyche, how you see yourself, how you see the world. Such pockets are called Palaces, strongholds of desire from a single person with desires so strong and so warped that they break off from the collective subconscious to form their own Palace. You follow?”

Yuuki chewed on his lip as he pieced it together in his head. “So… this is some kind of… brain world? Like, this isn’t a mystical spirit realm full of ghosts and unicorns and stuff? It comes from humans?”

“Well… there _are_ unicorns and ghosts, but those are born from the human imagination, so yes,” Sojiro answered with mirth. “Suppose now would be a good time to talk about Personas?”

“Is that like the Paragon thing you were talking about?”

“No, well… I’ll get to that. Personas have changed a lot, it’s kinda hard to nail down what they are. It’s easiest to say they’re your ‘Other Self,’ or an alter-ego. But in this world, you’d have a lot of other selves to worry about, so in essence, you could say your Persona is your fighting spirit. For the last round of Persona users, they were born from the will to rebel, but that hasn’t been true of every Persona user. What has been universally true is that Personas are used to do battle, so that’s why this incarnation of the Metaverse is distilling them down to just ‘a person’s fighting spirit.’”

“So… do I have a Persona?” Yuuki asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“You just might kid, if you get yourself into trouble in the Metaverse and forge the will to battle,” Sojiro said with a very dad-like smile.

“Who were the past Persona users?”

“Can’t you guess?”

Yuuki’s eyes went even wider. “Wait… are you saying the Phantom Thieves had Personas?! Is this how they stole hearts?!”

“Now you’re getting it,” Sojiro said, “If a person had distorted enough desires, their Shadow would become powerful enough to rule a Palace. Formerly, a Shadow was the side of someone that they kept hidden from the world, full of their most rotten desires. In this new Metaverse, they aren’t just born of desires, but fears too, representing everything bad about a person rather than their desires exclusively.”

“So a Shadow is our bad side. Got it. Was there an opposite? A good side?”

Sojiro shook his head. “There wasn’t. The Metaverse was entirely a representation of humanity’s depravity.”

Yuuki frowned. “But… but all humans are good _and_ bad! It seems kinda shitty to just have humanity’s brain world only be our evil sides!”

Sojiro nodded. “Exactly. It’s no wonder the God of the old Metaverse saw fit to bring about the end of the world.”

Yuuki blanched. “E-End of the world? W-wait, but we’re still here…”

“Yeup. Humanity decided we didn’t need a God of Control like that. He’d done his job, but he’d become oppressive. Thus, our New God created this new Metaverse built exactly upon the principles you just spoke of. This Metaverse is split into two-- supposedly-- harmonious halves. One side is the revamped Mementos, and the other is this place, which we’re calling Paradisio until we think of something better.”

“Ooohhh, so I’m guessing this place is full of the best side of people?”

“It’d be more accurate to say we’re what our real selves hope to be. The pinnacle of moral righteousness, the ideal we strive to live our lives toward. Our Paragon.”

Yuuki nodded enthusiastically. “I’m kinda getting it! Oh man, this is _so cool_.”

“Good, I’m glad. With that out of the way--” Sojiro turned serious, “--we need to figure out how you got here and how you get back. The Metaverse ain’t open for business yet, we haven’t worked out the kinks. _No one_ should be allowed in from the real world yet.” 

“Oh, um… well. I just stepped out of your cafe in the real world, I guess, and I got a horrible headache for a split second. When it passed, I walked to the station and looked up at the sky and saw that it was morning. Then I came back here. I don’t really know what happened.” 

Yuuki fidgeted in his stool. 

Sojiro sighed. “Well, guess a call to the big man upstairs is in order.”

Yuuki’s eyes went wide. “G-God…?”

Sojiro ignored him, stood up from his stool, and strolled over to a phone mounted on the inside of the bar. He picked it up without dialing a number.

“My Lord, we have a problem,” Sojiro started. 

Yuuki swallowed nervously.

“Busy? With what? … Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Listen, I have something related to that rift. … Uh-huh. … The Moon Confidant slipped through. He’s sitting at my bar. … You want to what? … Why? … Alright, if you insist,” Sojiro sighed and hung up. He turned to Yuuki and said, “Looks like you have a meeting with the bossman. Just sit tight, he’ll be here soon.”

Shit.

Paradise had bathrooms, right?


	3. you ever just meet god in a cafe

“Ah, there you are,” Sojiro said, making for the second time today that Yuuki felt his nervous system attempt to escape his body and take everything but his bones with it. Yuuki went from resting his arms on the bar (and burying his face in them) to upright so fast he almost snapped his spine. He looked around wildly for some blinding light, some man with a long white beard on a cloud, or a being so incomprehensible Yuuki’d explode on the spot just from looking at him. But a jarringly familiar laugh directed Yuuki’s attention to a young man instead. Yuuki shook his head and took a closer look. He wore a stylish black trench coat that flowed behind him in three coattails, dark honey-colored gloves, and a similarly colored dull gold mask. His eyes were red like everyone else’s, but the tousled black curls were unmistakable.

“Akira?” Yuuki whispered, furrowing his brow.

“I was wondering how you were gonna fit yourself in here, but copying Akira’s form is not what I was expecting,” Sojiro said, eyebrows raised. Copied his form? So he wasn’t the real Akira?

Not-Akira waved a gloved hand. “My true form was not meant to be downsized. It loses the effect,” he said, and yeah, that was _definitely_ Akira’s voice, nothing godly about it. Maybe Not-Akira wasn’t the New God? Akira _was_ the leader of the Phantom Thieves, it’d make sense that his Paragon would be high-ranking. Jeez, and Sojiro built him up so much!

“S-So I’m guessing you’re not really Akira?” Yuuki said by way of greeting. 

Paragon-Akira smiled, and boy, it was weird seeing such a devilish, catlike smile on his face. “Correct. You may know me by many names, but Akira called me Satanael, so Satanael I became.”

Any association with the devil or shooting God in the face to save Christmas completely flew over Yuuki’s head. He smiled brightly and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Satanael!” 

Satanael smirked and shook Yuuki’s hand. In that moment, any assumption that Satanael wasn’t the New God flew out the window. His hand was endlessly hot but as cold as absolute zero all at once, and so much power seemed coiled under his skin that it couldn’t move but also buzzed with such intensity, trying to burst from the confines of his human form. Yuuki yanked his hand away.

Satanael laughed heartily, not the least bit offended. “Ah, yes, my apologies. I can’t condense my form down to such a small size without flying in the face of a few laws of physics. Does seem to make contact an uncomfortable affair, huh?” 

“Y-yeah. Can’t say I was ready for that,” Yuuki said, rubbing his hand. It didn’t hurt, but he felt he should rub it anyway. 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever really ready for me,” Satanael said as he took a seat next to Yuuki. 

Yuuki fumbled with his fingers, all comfort gone. His nerves were briefly assuaged under the assumption that Satanael was Akira’s Paragon and not fucking _God Himself_ but it was obvious that wasn’t the case. Yuuki Mishima, a former nobody whose only claim to fame was being the admin for the Phansite, was talking to _God._ God had a name, and was currently taking the form of Yuuki’s best friend, and Yuuki didn’t know if he could take this. 

“No working yourself into a frenzy,” Satanael said next to him. A wave of calm swept through him, and it definitely was not from within. Yuuki didn’t know what Satanael just did, but he appreciated it.

“So um, so you’re…. God?” Yuuki mustered the courage to ask.

“Well, I suppose since I shot the old god of the Metaverse in the face, I have a right to that title,” Satanael said with a grin. 

“You and Sakura-san keep mentioning this old god… what happened?”

Satanael rested his cheek in his hand, looking so casual you’d figure he was just talking about his taste in movies. “You should have some inkling. I left you with some memories intact, instead of a full wipe like most of the populace.” 

Yuuki’s brow furrowed. He had absolutely no recollection of anything remotely approximating a battle between gods. That’s not something he’d forget.

“Your psyche has certainly dismissed the memories as a dream. I didn’t want anyone outside the Phantom Thieves having a perfect recount of the event. Think back, don’t you recall something about the city turning into a hellscape that no one else was aware of? Don’t you recall being the first one to stand up? To rally the masses together around the Phantom Thieves?”

Now that he mentioned it, Yuuki had a recurring dream about that. It always scared the living shit out of him until he felt a surge of courage that he never knew he had in him. He remembered cheering the Phantom Thieves on, and getting the crowd to cheer with him, and it was the best moment of his entire life. He always woke up super inspired but had nothing to channel to energy towards. 

“That… that was real?!” Yuuki exclaimed. “I just figured it was a dream… I mean, I couldn’t really do that…”

Satanael’s expression grew incredibly fond. “You can, and you did. That was all real, I assure you. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

Yuuki wasn’t sure what all that meant, but he both squirmed under the praise and felt warm pride bloom in his chest. He forgot he was looking at his best friend’s form, such divine compassion was radiating from his face. Yuuki wondered distantly if this is how all those old prophets of the major world religions felt when they met God. 

“It feels weird… I feel like I should be asking more important questions, if you’re God and all…”

Satanael frowned a bit and rearranged his position, folding his hands and crossing his legs. “Hmmm, perhaps you would relax if you knew I am not the god worshipped in many of the Abrahamic religions, or any religion for that matter. I’m not even the original traitorous son of God spoken of in Gnostic sects of Christianity. I merely began as a cognitive manifestation fit to kill an oppressive god. That god was not the God you think of either.”

“S-so, does God not exist?”

“Well, _gods_ certainly exist, I don’t see why your specific God wouldn’t. Perhaps there’s a realm higher even than the Metaverse. Yes… That certainly has to be the case.” Satanael looked away, clearly thinking of something that supports his claim, but didn’t bother mentioning it Yuuki. 

There was a lapse in conversation as Yuuki glanced around absently, absorbing everything that Satanael and Sojiro had explained. Sojiro was paying absolutely no mind to their conversation, instead attending to his customers. Yuuki had no concept of how long he’d been in the Metaverse, but it felt like a while. Yet he didn’t feel rushed. The atmosphere of the cafe was far too relaxed for that. The soft shades of browns, whites, and yellows, accented with the occasional dark green for the furniture; the muted but tranquilly playful piano buoying the smooth, smoky sound of a sax; Yuuki felt like he could stay in this paradise Leblanc forever. 

He snuck a look at Satanael, who seemed to be respecting Yuuki’s need to digest, contentedly looking around the cafe, humming a song to himself. Yuuki recognized it as a song Akira hummed when he was busying his hands, most of the time making lockpicks when Yuuki met him at the diner. Once again, Yuuki was struck with the realization that he was talking to a god in the body of his best friend. It was much easier to forget that than he thought, what with that gold mask obscuring half of Satanael’s face, altering the perception of his features. The mask had a cool design though, a black starburst-esque pattern around the eyes, cutting crevices into the metal of the mask, drawing attention to the maroon eyes. Yuuki found that everyone else in Paradisio had the same eyes, but there was something deeper, darker, richer about Satanael’s shade of red. 

“You never really answered my question,” Yuuki said. 

“Oh? I suppose I didn’t,” Satanael said airily, “Well, that’s a very long story your friends can tell you, but the abridged version is that Yaldabaoth, the old lord of the Metaverse, lost hope in humanity. He intended to merge Mementos and the real world, bringing about humanity’s ruin. The Phantom Thieves and their Confidants-- that includes you-- were the only ones who stood in his way. You were the first to inspire confidence in the Thieves. Humans rallied around your cry, proved they were worth saving, and vested their strength in Akira. From that, he awakened me.”

“Awakened? Have you been sleeping all this time or something?” Was awakened even a word?

Satanael chuckled. “No, no, nothing of the sort. I am Akira’s final Persona.”

Yuuki’s mouth dropped. It would explain why Satanael was taking Akira’s form, but… Akira? A high school student who worked liked twenty billion totally mundane part-time jobs, who lived in the attic of a tiny cafe, had a Persona who was an _actual god?_ A seventeen-year-old kid could wield _divine power?_ Yuuki knew Akira was extraordinary, of course. He was the Leader of the Phantom Thieves after all. But this was a lot to digest. 

“You’ve had all manner of absurdity introduced to you, and this is what blows your mind?” Satanael quipped. 

“I-I’m sorry. It’s just… your Akira’s _Persona?_ That’s his will to fight, right? He has the power of a literal god?!”

“Yes,” Satanael answered simply. “Make no mistake, Akira didn’t wield my power from the start. Before, I was Arsene, his initial Persona. Everyone has two stages of their Persona, their other self that awakens first, and then their final Persona, the crystallization of their resolve to rebel.”

The more Yuuki listened, the more oddly video game-y this whole thing sounded. 

Satanael re-crossed his legs and straightened up. “Now then, enough small talk.” 

“That was _small talk?_ ” 

Satanael smiled-- well, he never really stopped smiling, he just kinda switched up which kind of smile he wore. “I owe you a full explanation. You see, when I shot Yaldabaoth, the Phantom Thieves destroyed the Metaverse. That was supposed to be the end. But the human conscience, as adaptable as it is, has made a mental realm instrumental to alleviating the burdens on the mind. The Metaverse was gone, but I remained in the white void. The light of creation all but screamed to be used, to be given shape by my hands. So I crafted this new Metaverse you see around you.” Satanael punctuated the statement by spreading his arms. 

Yuuki really had nothing to say. What would you say to someone who just told you they created a whole other world as if they were recounting childhood stories?

Observing Yuuki’s silence, Satanael continued. “This Metaverse is extraordinarily young. Barely three months old. And like most newborns, it’s incredibly fragile. There have been… well, what can only be described as hiccups in the border between the Metaverse and the real world. For the most part, no one’s aware enough of the Metaverse to cross over, only feel lightheaded for a second. However, you slipped through, completely. And I had to delay this lovely chat with you to mend the hole you left, and I suspect I will be mending the hole from your exit as well.”

Yuuki cowed a bit. “Oh, I’m sorry…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Satanael said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s the boundary’s fault, not yours. It’s infuriating how Yaldabaoth thought leaving the border as a membrane was acceptable. It shouldn’t rip and reform, it should be like water. You can disturb the water’s surface, cause ripples, but water won’t _break._ In any event, you’ll be exempt from the memory wipe when you pass through, so don’t worry.”

“Memory wipe?”

Satanael nodded. “Yes, I’m loading the boundary up with contingencies should anyone undesirable wander in. Once they leave the Metaverse, they’ll only have vague memories of light and strange creatures. It’ll most likely become a case of alien abduction and send everyone down the wrong rabbit hole.”

“Whooaa, that’s really smart!” Yuuki said.

“Well, it has to be, to protect the Metaverse from being exploited for malicious ends. Exploiting it for good caused enough problems; the Phantom Thieves’ adventures kept tearing holes in the border until Yaldabaoth could muscle through and blur the line between imagination and reality. I’d prefer everything be stable before I allow the Thieves to continue their crusades.”

Yuuki nodded along. “Like a website in beta!”

“Yes, exactly like that. To that end...” Satanael stood up with a flare of his coattails and offered a hand to Yuuki. “It’s best you don’t mention this whole escapade to the Thieves just yet. I don’t need them poking even more massive holes in the border. I’ll let all of you know when the Metaverse is open for business once again. Now, come along, it’s time I get you home.”

Yuuki took his hand and stood up. He started for the exit, but Satanael was walking in the exact opposite direction.

“Uhhh… where are we going?”

“Well I can do you the very regular service of taking the Paradisio lines instead. They’re free after all. And faster,” Satanael explained.

“Oh, thank you so much! Today was getting to be pretty expensive…” 

Yuuki was sure it was unbelievably late, and he had a lot to explain to his parents, but who cared when he just met God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MISHIMA'S PROLOGUE IS DONE SO WE CAN FINALLY MOVE ON TO THE FIC PROPER AAAAAHHHH. I HATE EXPOSITION. I AM THE WORST AT IT.  
> I did NOT want this to take three goddamn chapters so there might be more mistakes in this chapter than previous, since I just ran this through grammarly instead of a live human being. Lemme know if there are any mistakes.  
> Also, this whole paragon/shadows verse i've invented? Purely inspired by my love of Satanael. He's literally the best persona in the whole game. I'm obsessed with him and want him in more fics.  
> Come scream at me on tumblr about Satanael [@OkamiRockatansky](https://okamirockatansky.tumblr.com/)  
> EDIT: changed the time period of the New Metaverse's existence from one month to three, because the shit Satanael pulls in later chapters would not work with such a young Metaverse.


	4. 3am is a good time to reflect on your crazy life right?

_**“I shall grant you an opportunity to make a deal with me.”** _

_“…What is this ‘deal?’” Akira asked warily. He tried to make it sound biting, but he was too shaken. He just winked out of existence only to be brought back by this… malevolent god, just so he could be mocked and executed. He could barely move. It was a struggle as is just to get a blanket over Caroline and Justine so they could be fused into… another little girl. How was this little girl, already defeated by the god, supposed to help him?_

_**“Should you wish it, I shall return the world to its prior state— one rampant with distorted masses.”** _

_Revert the world? Was it telling the truth? Or was this another game it was playing with Akira?_

_“You forcefully dragged him into the Metaverse and imposed an ordeal he did not deserve…” Lavenza shouted, “Yet you still intend on toying with him?!”_

_The god ignored her. **“The Phantom Thieves will be praised and gain fame. The world will escape ruin as well.”**_

_Prolonging the life of the world, just a little longer… And the Phantom Thieves would be in a favorable position. It would make operating infinitely easier. Perhaps… perhaps…_

_**“…What say you?”** _

_It would be the biggest gamble the Phantom Thieves had ever done. The most fragile, risky plan. They’d have to really be in it for the long game._

_But killing a god of control? What bigger target could they have?_

_Akira made up his mind._

_“Very well,” he said._

_There was a half-beat of silence as Lavenza whirled to him, yellow eyes wide with shock._

_The god chuckled. **“Our contract has been sealed then.”** _

_“It’s a good deal,” Akira lied._

_“…A pact between a false god and a human we placed our hopes on… even we could not have predicted this…” Lavenza said despairingly, “You have even undone my master’s wish… You are a Trickster after all…”_

_Akira smiled as sadly as he could, anything to convey the regret already tearing at the edges of his soul. He couldn’t tell her to believe in him. He couldn’t tell her not to give up hope for him yet. He couldn’t give any hint that he planned to double cross the god as soon as the Thieves were strong enough, not while the god was still present._

_“You’re right, I am the true Trickster,” Akira said, trying to push as much feeling into it without giving away too much, but Lavenza didn’t look like she was getting it. She flicked her eyes up but didn’t linger on his face for more than a second before locking eyes on the false Igor._

_**“You truly are the child of man… It seems you could not win against your own desires. There is no need to be ashamed. I shall grant that wish.”** _

_With a maniacal laugh, the false god disappeared, leaving Akira alone with his sorrow. He turned fully to Lavenza, who looked lost now that there was no absolute evil to channel her steely gaze at. All her iron resolve, already chipped by Akira’s “betrayal,” dissipated as her eyes welled up with tears. Her lips quivered as her brows drew up and her nose reddened. She clutched the overlarge book to her chest like it was a big teddy bear to hug after scary nightmares._

_This whole year, despite their stature and voices, Akira never once considered Caroline and Justine young. Even Lavenza, when she first appeared mere moments ago, boasted the same calm demeanor of Justine and oozed a wisdom the twins didn’t previously possess. But now she just looked so much like a little girl crying because of a scraped knee, or because she was denied candy. It felt so wrong to look at Lavenza and feel the compulsion to ask if she was okay, where were her parents, would something as simple as ice cream or a stuffed animal fix this. But this wasn’t so easily fixed. They were both just pulled from the brink of nothingness, and like a coward, he traded his life for Lavenza’s. Even if he meant to trick and kill the god when he least suspected it, Akira still knew the sacrifice he was making wasn’t worth it._

_Akira felt like a monster._

_He had no right to speak to her, but he did anyway. “What… what will happen to you?”_

_“What do you care?” she tried to hiss over the top of her book, but it came out as a sob-wracked gasp._

_Akira didn’t have an answer. There was nothing he could say in the god’s Velvet Room that wouldn’t incriminate him._

_Lavenza averted her face from him and wandered away, into Akira’s former cell. She sat with her back to the wall, knees pushed up against the book, arms still curled around it like a lifeline. Great globs of tears spilled down her cheeks as she sniffled quietly, trying to remain composed even now._

_Akira took a single step towards her._

_“Just go!” she sobbed, hiding her face against the book. A barred door rematerialized over the cell, closing the former warden in and leaving the inmate outside. The irony stung. It stung like hell._

_The neighboring cell disappeared, and a long hallway leading to a staircase took its place._

_Akira took one last lingering look at Lavenza, the image of her weeping face burning into his retinas and searing through his brain._

_She would die here._

_She’d die crying, alone, thinking humanity was a failure, that everything she did was wrong, pointless. And if Akira wanted to succeed, he couldn’t comfort her in her last moments._

_The god of control was going to pay._

_While he was ascending the stairs, he noticed the underside of his mask was wet._

 

Akira woke with a start. He blindly felt around the bed, not realizing he was sitting straight up. It shouldn’t have been this dark in the attic. Was his bed turned around? Why was the window so much bigger? Why was the room so small? Was he in another prison cell?! Where was Morgana, was Morgana even with him?! Were his friends--

“Shhh, shhh, hey, it’s okay,” came Morgana’s voice.

“Morgana?” Akira said hoarsely, feeling the cat push his head into Akira’s palms. He looked down with his already-bad eyes, bleary with sleep and tears. He could make out Morgana’s concerned blue eyes through the blurs. “Are you alright? Is everyone else--?”

“We’re all fine, Akira. It was just a dream,” Morgana said, climbing into Akira’s lap and purring loudly against his stomach. The rhythm soothed him.

A dream? It seemed so real. Was this just the evil god’s lie? To lure Akira into a false sense of security? Akira buried his face in his hands. 

“Morgana… I… Did we lose?”

“We didn’t lose,” Morgana said in confusion. “What happened? I’ve never seen you like this…”

The tears flowed anew. “I-I made a deal with him, Morgana, the evil god, I betrayed Lavenza, she died _alone_ down there--”

“Akira, none of that happened. That was a nightmare. You never made a deal with Yaldabaoth. You didn’t betray Lavenza. You freed Master Igor and saved the world. You summoned Satanael and destroyed the Metaverse. Remember? Deep breaths, recall the events of the past few months.”

Akira did as instructed and reality came trickling back. Yes, he defeated Yaldabaoth. There was no reason to fear. Everything was normal. He had the best few months of his life (aside from missing the Metaverse) with his friends and his partners. A week ago he came back with his mother and his new stepdad to Shiroishi. Much as he wanted to stay in Tokyo, something in him needed to clear his name in his hometown. Some sort of pride and twisted amusement compelled him; perhaps parts of his true nature that masqueraded under the name Joker. He couldn’t stand as the (former) Leader of the Phantom Thieves to let his hometown sully his name even if he was cleared of his charges. They had to know he went from oblivious milquetoast to a lionhearted, debonair angel of a guy. 

Plus, there was his mother. She just escaped her marriage with Akira’s biological father, a neglectful man who got most involved in his son’s life when Akira was arrested. A man who _willfully enforced_ his neglect, since apparently the reason neither he nor Akira’s mother contacted him was because of his father’s twisted idea of ‘tough love.’ Akira came home hoping she could find happiness in herself, or at the very least her new man. But the speed at which she remarried and the first week he spent with his stepdad set off alarm bells in Akira’s head.

Boy, what a mundane thing to worry about in comparison to damning humanity. 

“Are you alright?”

Morgana snapped him out of his thoughts. He rubbed the tears out of his eyes and smiled weakly.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Thank you,” Akira managed as he patted Morgana.

“...I’ve never seen you like that,” Morgana repeated, hushed. 

“Because most of the time I was too tired to dream,” Akira said, “Now that things are returning to normal, my overactive subconscious is back at it again.”

“You dreamed a lot before Tokyo?” Morgana got off Akira’s lap and curled up next to his leg, watching him with interest. 

“Oh yeah, dreamed a ton, every night. It was a pretty even split between weird dreams about stuff I watched before bed, and dreams about real people and real things I’ve experienced. Those dreams ranged from uncomfortable to… bad.”

Morgana made a concerned noise. “If those kinds of dreams are gonna come back, after everything you’ve been through…”

Akira sighed and flopped back onto his side. “Yeah. I think night terrors like the one I just had are in order. Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? It’s not your fault.”

“Well, I just don’t wanna wake you up with flailing or something.”

“That’s still not your fault.”

Akira squirmed. “Yeah, but it feels like it. It doesn’t feel good knowing you hit somebody in your sleep.”

“Well, try to get to sleep. We’ll talk about this more in the morning,” Morgana said, tail end of the sentence muffled by him curling up.

“Yeah… I guess…”

 

The next time Akira looked at his phone, it was 3:05. He growled under his breath. He’d been checking the phone every five minutes, hoping those five minutes had been three hours.

He wasn’t gonna sleep at this rate. He was a storm of anxiety. 

It was funny, actually. He hadn’t had this much anxiety since he was working himself into a panic over Tokyo’s _subway system_ the night before he left. He wasn’t prone to anxiety attacks, but he nearly had one that night, thinking about the claustrophobic crowd, getting deathly lost, stressing over the effects of his sentence, and just generally contemplating how his life was going to the shitter. That was the night he abruptly decided to go numb. He figured his life was over, so why give a fuck? He spent the next two days in an apathetic malaise and intended on keeping it that way until Kamoshida happened. Kamoshida’s shittiness coupled with Akira’s careless pessimism, funnily enough, cracked open a well of capability he never knew he had. Arsene actually helped as well, whispering encouragements while Akira had him, and setting him up to capitalize on his newfound confidence in Arsene’s absence (thanks Yaldabaoth). 

It seemed impossible that Akira managed to completely transform himself largely without the help of his own Persona. He was just flying by the seat of his pants; running on zero fucks to give and a thirst for justice. He strategically crammed his schedule with as many things to do with as many people so he couldn’t leave time to think and thus stress. Miss him with that anxiety shit, he literally didn’t have time.

But now he did have time. Now he had time to look back on the year and realize _he was the most dangerous fucking teenager in Japan._

Akira never fancied himself a genius. He knew he soaked up knowledge like a sponge, he’d just never applied himself. He figured if he did, he’d be a solid A/B student, not a fucking _criminal mastermind._

Nevermind the insane plan he pulled to reveal Akechi as the traitor. Nevermind the fact that he could issue commands like lightning, negotiate with Shadows, and inspire unquestioning loyalty in a group of naturally rebellious teenagers. Nevermind that he held a map of every Palace in his head and had the Persona compendium with every Shadow’s strengths and weaknesses memorized. Nevermind that he was the sole manager of their inventory, handler of their budget, and representative to their various Confidants. Nevermind that he did all that without collapsing, but _thriving,_ loving the busy work, the constant sense of accomplishment.

He considered his Confidants, and all the knowledge he absorbed from them. Gunrunning, medicine, journalism, politics, law, social media… Anything he didn’t know enough about to do himself, he could charm his Confidants into doing. That wasn’t even considering his friends and their potential. If life went according to plan for everyone, he’d have a best friend who’d do anything for him in the most disparate series of sects in society. 

Also his Persona was Satan and he shot God in the face.

It was a good thing he had a strong moral compass and compulsive need to make friends.

But what if he lost that? He had no idea what the future held, and he was so goddamn young, he might have a lot of future ahead of him. What if he lost his sense of justice, or it became distorted? What if he lost any trace of objectivity and bent Japan to his idea of justice? What if he became everything he hated? Who would stop him? 

Akira shivered. 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t be a phantom thief. He proved himself, he did all the good he could do. Such things couldn’t last, they could only go very, _very_ wrong. Now he could live a virtuous _normal_ life, instead of potentially turning into Light Yagami on steroids. 

There was no need to worry. No Metaverse, no worries. 

Akira turned onto his other side and trapped his thoughts in a steel clamp until he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we dip our toes in the fic proper by planting the seeds of a palace. I tried to be lighter on the dialogue this chapter since the last three were nothing but, however dialogue is my bread and butter so I'm not one thousand percent sure I like this chapter. My eternal problem of not grounding the story in the setting enough perpetually haunts me.  
> Poke me on tumblr [@OkamiRockatansky](https://okamirockatansky.tumblr.com/) if you feel so inclined.


End file.
